


Flows Just as Free

by octovoid128



Series: The Inherent Romanticism of Dragons [9]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Mild Eye Trauma, Patricide, Transphobia, hoo boy this is a dark one, mild emetophobia, please mind the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octovoid128/pseuds/octovoid128
Summary: There's nothing left for Marius at home. He'd resolved long ago to run and the last thing keeping him here has finally faded away. But the reason he most wants to leave is not going to let him go without a fight.
Series: The Inherent Romanticism of Dragons [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832185
Comments: 10
Kudos: 92





	Flows Just as Free

**Author's Note:**

> i was so caught up in the euphoria of Ashes and Ivy collecting datemates that for a second I lived in a world where the mechs didn't all have significant trauma. And then I wrote this. So. yeah! (Seriously please mind the tags)
> 
> Marius is pre-transition and not having a good time in this, but don't worry there is another fic already pretty much finished that is way happier for him so be on the lookout for that

Marius runs through the woods, branches whipping at his face, brambles catching on the hem of his skirt, tearing loose pieces of the fabric. He desperately wishes he’d had the time to grab a pair of trousers, or even time to tear the skirt to make it easier to run. He can’t stop though. Not when he can hear branches snapping behind him, and angry cursing.

He shouldn’t have even said anything. Should have just snuck away in the middle of the night. But he wanted Him to know that this was His fault. He was the reason Marius was leaving. The only thing left tethering him to that house had been his brother. Once Liddell had drawn his last shaking breath, there was nothing left for Marius to stay for. 

He had been planning his escape ever since his brother’s death. He’d squirreled away food, packed carefully, and researched where to find someone who could do exactly what he wanted, could change his body to be how he wanted it to be, how he  _ needed _ it to be. He had done everything right. Except that he had told his father that he was leaving.

Marius should have known it would end badly. His father had grabbed his arm, shouted at him. 

“You’re less pretty than your sisters were but surely you’ll fetch _ some  _ sort of dowry.”

The idea had made Marius’s stomach squirm. He’d managed to pull his arm away and then… all he could do was run.

He’s still running now, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, blood pulsing hard in his temples. His father is still behind him. He can’t stop. He  _ can’t stop _ , but suddenly his feet are going too fast beneath him, too fast and he’s stumbling, tripping, tumbling to the forest floor, a sharp pain shooting up his leg.

Marius only has time to manage a curse of pain and frustration before He’s on him, grabbing him, trying to lift him, to drag him back, back to that house filled with nothing but pain and grief and the ghosts of the rest of his family.

Marius fights like the wounded animal he is, clawing and screaming and scratching, flailing about wildly. His fingernail catches his father’s eye and He howls and drops him in surprise, reeling back a little. Marius tries to scramble away, but He recovers too quickly and His hands are on him again, trying to haul him to his feet as Marius twists and writhes. A lucky elbow catches his father’s ribs, and He staggers back, loosening his grip enough for Marius to break away once more.

Marius is full of desperate adrenaline and time feels like it’s slowing around him. He knows that his father does not intend to let him go. He knows that he can’t outrun Him right now, not with his ankle sprained if not broken. So he makes the only choice he can make.

He launches himself at his father, who stumbles backwards and topples over. Marius crawls onto his chest, weighing him down. His first punch connects with a satisfying thud, but his father is still moving, arms flailing, still fighting. So Marius punches Him again, and then again, and something about it feels  _ good _ , with the adrenaline singing in his ears and his heart hammering against his ribs. He doesn’t think, just keeps going, blow after blow, not even caring about the blood, not caring as his father goes still beneath him.

He realizes absently that someone is screaming, and then a little more clearly that the noise is coming from him. He finally manages to still his hands, looking down at what he’s done.

He can’t tell if he’s crying or if his father’s face is actually that unrecognizable. He scrambles back and tries to breathe, but can’t. His stomach churns and his knuckles hurt,  _ everything  _ hurts. He manages to stumble to his feet, biting his tongue against the waves of nausea threatening to overwhelm him. He can't afford to vomit now. He needs what little might be in his stomach to keep moving.

He gets his bearings and starts limping in what he desperately hopes is the right direction. He forces down whatever feelings he may have about his father and what he just did to Him. He’d sort through those later. Or never! That sounded preferable. He decides not to waste any more energy on thinking and focuses on getting where he needs to go.

He has a witch to see.

**Author's Note:**

> [Jonny voice] It's harder than it looks not to end up in an emotionally-charged narrative climax where you murder your father.


End file.
